


His Vision is Clear

by Eisthenameofme



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Altar Sex, Begging, Canon-Typical Violence, Cunnilingus, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Do Not Archive (The Magnus Archives), Don't Like Don't Read, Extremely Dubious Consent, Forced Orgasm, Forced to Watch, GNC Jon, M/M, Mind Rape, Multiple Orgasms, Non-Consensual Voyeurism, Oral Sex, Possessive Behavior, Rape/Non-con Elements, Telepathic Bond, There's no major character death, Trans Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Trans Male Character, Twisted and Fluffy Feelings, Vaginal Sex, Voyeurism, and related things, beholding avatars, bondage? sort of?, but if that's something that concerns you, but only really mentioned in passing, elias is a manipulative bastard, for certain parties, it doesn't end well for them, jon has mixed feelings, jonmartin is present but not endgame and not the focus, noncon, only some of it is dubious the rest is overt, set in season 5, technically could be called a good ending, you should check the end tags
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-21
Updated: 2020-09-21
Packaged: 2021-03-08 03:00:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,009
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26578717
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eisthenameofme/pseuds/Eisthenameofme
Summary: He finally meets Jonah's eyes across the room, where he's been waiting patiently. How futile that purpose seems now. This was a mistake. He's just glad martin didn't make it here with him.OrElias adoringly rapes jon, basically.
Relationships: Elias Bouchard | Jonah Magnus/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist
Comments: 16
Kudos: 85





	His Vision is Clear

**Author's Note:**

> So. There's no transphobia and Jon's anatomy is refered to as clit and cunt, respectively. There's no acephobia but Elias does mention Martin having wanted to have sex with Jon in a kind of mindfuck-y way.
> 
> The gnc is only mentioned, but Jon is a man and wears a skirt and nail polish, so it was relevant. I just didn't want anyone coming in thinking that was a Major Focus.
> 
> There is graphic rape in this fic. I tagged dubious consent because there are parts that are dubious, and it fluctuates throughout the fic.
> 
> There is jonmartin but this is not a fic you should be reading if that's all you're looking for and that is not endgame. There are more notes about that at the bottom.
> 
> And finally- this fic was inspired by "a moment through a clearer lens" which was a parody fic that was not labeled as such (also not really... written as a fic exactly) written by an orphan account, as well as having other mistagged things. I was very annoyed by this. So I wrote a fic based on their hypothetical concept, including a lot of tiny details that I spun to be actual jonelias and fit into this fic. I think it's been removed for breaking community guidelines, but fortunately I thought to take screenshots and was able to include all the details I wanted to. Thank you to the author of "a moment through a clearer lens" for inspiring this fic and inspiring me to write an over 5k explicit jonelias rape fic when I've barely ever written anything before, and long live dark fiction.

The air chills as Jonah's eyes, set as they have been for as long as the Archivist has Known him in the face of Elias Bouchard, light on Jon from across the room. He knows this before their eyes ever meet.

He recognizes the feeling of being watched, of course, but it's more than that. He's certainly become accustomed to being watched since this all started, to the ever-present gaze of his patron, the hostile stares of alienated co-workers in their desperate search for someone convenient to blame who's not inclined to destroy them when they bring it up one too many times, the horrified looks of those he had preyed upon after the realization of what he'd done, what they'd said, what he was set in, but- well. He'd certainly been watched by Elias too, it's not like he hadn't known that. Even from the very beginning, in what he had believed to be the mundane sense, it was clear that he'd been keeping an eye on him, and of course that progressed quite rapidly to secret meetings in blind spots and distractions and spiraling paranoia. But this isn't even quite that. Regardless of how he may have struggled against the subconscious nagging since the end of the world, the innate, _ingrown_ knowledge has persisted against his will- Jonah Magnus has been watching him. In the most absolute sense. Meeting him in person has not assuaged that, by any means.

Jon tries to direct his focus away from that gaze for as long as possible, as if refusing to make eye contact will somehow make him give up. He wishes his magic powers extended to object permanence. Everything not held in his gaze just falling away to the ether.

Jon has never been here, has been in the panopticon, briefly, but has not been here, in this new seat of the Eye's power in their remade world- but the familiarity of this place is almost oppressive. It feels like being in the archives again. It feels like his dreams. It feels like this place is alive. And it is not only Jonah's eyes that watch him here, regardless of their magnified intensity. He wishes he knew whether the increase in focus was simply due to this being a place of power, or because of a heightened sense of interest in him. Then he Knows. He briefly forgets how he got here, and with what purpose.

He finally meets Jonah's eyes across the room, where he's been waiting patiently. How futile that purpose seems now. This was a mistake. He's just glad martin didn't make it here with him.

He curses under his breath as Elias advances, eyes intent in a way only those touched by the Eye can be on the face of his Archive, and a dawning horror shudders up his spine. He starts backward instinctively, already knowing any entrance he had come through would by now be long gone, that concepts like _entrances_ in places like these exist wholly to serve the powers that govern them.

That should have been warning enough. _They wanted him here._

His back hits a stone wall, his thoughts hit something similar, and he thinks vaguely of how beautifully done the stonework is, the intricacy of the etchings that line the walls apparent. There are eyes everywhere, in every shade of green and every size, hiding within each other and staring out of everything. There is a perfect symmetry that is not immediately apparent, but the pattern reveals itself the longer he looks, and he can see the stories now, coded into the artwork- arches crowned by tourmaline, dripping emeralds against a malachite pillar. He distracts himself trying to identify every stone, as his thoughts cloud with that familiar terror, and at some point it is no longer his own mind that identifies them as peridot, garnet, jade, agate, bloodstone, chrome diopside, fluorite, malachite, amazonite, chrysocolla, serpentine, variscite, idocrase, grandidierite, kornerupine, maw-sit-sit, prehnite, zoisite, quarts cat's eye, actinolite cat's eye-

When his gaze inevitably returns in front of him, it is to meet the cool eyes of Jonah Magnus, his regard somehow icy, alight with a hunger, and warm with something that seems very much like fondness all at once.

"My Archivist," he says, slowly, like he can't help but to savor every word, "it is so good to finally see you again, in person."

"Jonah."

And it's all he can say, all he can think to say. They've come so far from the beginning of all things, and it already feels like aeons but he Knows now that there will be so many more of those to come, in this breathtaking, horrific new world. He had thought that maybe Oliver was right, and that the end would take them all the same, now. And perhaps after a fashion he was, but this world- it is not the End that lies at its heart, and it is not in the image of the End in which it was remade.

Jonah smiles, and brings a hand to Jon's cheek.

"I am so sorry you've had to wait so long to see the full picture of what we've made. Bits and pieces of course, it's not as if you've been hiding, but a more comprehensive perspective, a _clearer lens_ , is always so much more satisfying. Patience has its uses of course, I could hardly be here now without it- but _really_."

" _I_ didn't make _anything_." Jon jerks to the side, tries to slide out from between Elias and the wall, but Elias steps closer, neatly brackets his legs, places a careful hand at his throat.

"But of course you did. I made _you_ , Jon, but I could never have done all _this_ without my Archive. Perhaps not willingly, but you've done such lovely work, all the same."

Elias presses closer still, their breaths mingling, and says, softly, "And it feels right, doesn't it, Jon? All these people in their screaming terror, a personalized hell for each of them. And _us_ , at the center, to drink it all in. What did you feel, when I read out those words with your tongue, and the world was reborn? Did you-"

"Shut up!" Jon finally snaps out, shoving Elias back suddenly enough to wheel to the side and edge backward in the other direction.

"Well now don't _lie_ to yourself- I know it's a longstanding habit of yours, but it really doesn't suit an avatar of our patron at all. Honestly, I prefer the smoking."

"I know you wanted me here. You know we came to kill you. What did you _let me in here for?_ " And the compulsion brought forth is a biting, snarling, silvery thing, anger briefly eclipsing the terror which so insistently clutches at his throat.

Elias hums. "Much better."

And Jon's skirt catches on something just before his legs do, only about knee-hight and polished stone. The light shifts, and he is standing in the center of the room- then seated on whatever it is he'd backed into- an altar, something that isn't truly his mind supplies helpfully.

"Have you been waiting long for this, then? You couldn't kill me before without mussing your plans, but now that you've accomplished your goal and finished with me, it's _fitting_?"

"Oh, my dear Archivist," Elias begins slowly, stepping forward, pressing him back further against the pedestal (and isn't that a fitting metaphor for a created idol) and pushing him gently down, so that he's lying on his back, "Do you truly believe I value you so little?"

He takes another moment, takes all the time in the world, really, to drink in the sight in front of him, and "That our god would ever be willing to let something like _you_ go?"

"No," he continues, gracefully leaning over him to cup his cheek, "You are forever ours now, Jonathan. Mind, body, soul."

And Jon feels a building, searing static in the air, resonating in his chest, that he's only now noticed but which must have been here, more subtlety, for the entirety of their cheerful little reunion. The Ceaseless Watcher, making its presence, it's _approval_ , known.

Jon doesn't know why he's stopped struggling (Jon knows exactly why he's stopped struggling- if he goes along with it for just a bit longer, maybe Jonah will relent long enough to give him some _damnable answers for once-_ ), but he doesn't expect it when Elias closes that short space between them and presses their lips together. He should have. It's the most vile (natural, his mind tries to supply instead, but absolutely not) thing in the world. Elias, carding his fingers through his hair, the hand that had been at his cheek coming to a rest at the nape of his neck only to press him forward, deeper into the kiss as static builds-

Jon finally struggles back with enough force to break it- almost slamming his head into hard stone, were it not for Elias's hand still resting at the back of his head. It doesn't feel as if he actually broke away. It feels as if Elias wanted to see his face more clearly. If the calm, intent gaze above him is anything to go by, his feeling is correct. Elias brings a hand to Jon's lips where they're slicked and too baffled, for the moment, to properly form words, and brushes his fingers across them with a startling tenderness. Jon bats his hand away.

Tries to bat his hand away.

Jon realizes, with a fresh sense of dawning horror, that he cannot move his wrists from where they've come to rest against the gleaming stone.

Elias's gaze sharpens impossibly, and now he is grinning.

Jon sputters furiously for a moment before falling still and silent, eyes frantically searching his surroundings for any hint of escape, searching Elias's face for any hint of what is to come. There is nothing.

Jonah eventually settles into an expression that could perhaps pass as slightly more somber in a spotty video feed, and says, "Apologies, but you are _truly_ lovely like this. It's always a pleasure watching you come to these realizations; your eyes light up beautifully, in that stunning green. It really was wonderful to see you come to understand my true identity, that day."

He leans in, so he's speaking almost into Jon's neck, and asks "Are you comfortable, Jon? I can always reposition you if you need, before we begin."

And Jon tries very hard to suppress the sharp surge of dread that that sentence conjures from the interior walls of his mind.

He fails.

And really, there's only one thing to say-

"Begin what?"

His voice is soft, quieter than he intends, but the compulsion is nonetheless powerful for it, if the shudder that wracks through Elias is anything to go by. Jon can feel him smile against his skin.

"Wouldn't you rather I show you?"

Elias pulls back just enough, just as far as his chin, to make eye contact, and-

His head is full to bursting with all the fear in every domain and every crevice of this new world. If he was any more human, he's sure, he would be dead.

Jon can feel his limbs spasming against the stone, struggling without thought to break away from the assault of white noise and anguish and unbridled terror of billions- more than that, since humans aren't the only animal that can be afraid. He thinks he hears something, a voice, Jonah's voice beyond all the screaming, and it's dim but somehow still crystalline in its clarity, telling him how _proud_ he is, that he is doing so well. And then it stops. Everything cuts out as abruptly as it began, except that the air is still ringing with horror, and every part of his body is shaking, and his throat hurts. Oh. The screaming may not have just been that of the people he saw. His vision is clearer than it has ever been.

He realizes that he's been asked a question just after he begins to answer it, though it takes him several seconds to understand what it was and what his answer means.

"It's beautiful."

He doesn't want to think about what he means. Elias is gently carding his hand through his hair. His mouth is back at his throat.

He registers, after a second, what has just happened- the grand visions of all that is their domain now, in all of the world, all at once. He renews his struggling intentionally this time, though much more shakily. His limbs barely feel attached to his body.

Elias sighs and pulls back. It sends a sharp bolt of panic through him for a moment, but he reaches for his hand, for some reason, and doesn't seem to be trying to drown him in horrific visions in any immediate capacity. He takes his hand, almost reverently, and turns it palm up. He looks at it, brushing his thumb carefully over the skin, clasping his other hand around his wrist firmly where he tries to struggle, but nothing else. He stops trying to pull away and Elias, maybe reflexively, loosens his grip and absentmindedly rubs a circle into his pulse point. Jon wants to look away, or close his eyes- he doesn't want to risk that happening again, for one thing, and doesn't think whatever Elias is doing now could be good regardless, but can't convince himself to do it. Instead he forces out a hoarse, "What are you doing?" Before he can stop himself.

Elias glances up at him, before he can look away, and smiles in a way that would be reassuring if he didn't know what he was. Something is his chest relaxes anyway, and he tells himself it's the relief that this moment of eye contact does not bring the same rush of horror.

"You need to relax. You're hurting yourself, Jonathan." He says, in his velvet voice, tilting the palm so that he can see the vivid red crescents where his nails tore through skin, contrasting brightly with his skin and the neutral nail polish (which was starting to chip well before now). He hadn't noticed. He thinks briefly that maybe Elias is mocking him because, _Really_ , I'm _hurting myself?_ , But he Knows it's not true, and even without that would be hard-pressed to deny it with the way he looks at him and the voice he uses now, both of which he can only think of as _concerned_.

Jon stares back at him for a few seconds, more baffled than anything else, despite everything, before slowly and deliberately sounding out, " _You're_ hurting me. This wouldn't have happened if you hadn't- done whatever that was." He's sure he must sound audibly like he believes Elias to be insane, but he really doesn't have the energy or motivation to mask it right now.

Elias doesn't seem offended. He reaches toward Jon's face, not pausing when he flinches briefly back, and brushes the hair out of his eyes. "Jon. If you wouldn't resist us so much, it wouldn't be an issue in the first place. You said yourself not a moment ago, even after all that fighting to break away from it, what it _is_ to you. Beautiful," He smiles at him warmly, "You can't pretend that you don't see this world, see _yourself_ , for what you are. You don't need to fight us anymore- it was never good for you to begin with, let alone _now_. There's a reason denying yourself statements manifested as starvation. I'm happy to do this slowly, of course, I'm not _angry_ with you Jon, but you are going to work with me, one way or another. You're mine. Let me help you. I'm just trying to give you a clearer view."

Before he can think of a response, Elias brings Jon's hand, just as gently, to his own mouth, and kisses his palm. The warm breath and soft skin feel strangely nice against the sting. Jon breaks off from his train of thought and watches, entranced, as he pulls away, lips stained just so with a bloody red.

Elias smiles at him then, like they're sharing a secret, and says, "Here, let me help you relax."

He returns his wrist to the table carefully, mindful of the angle at which it's resting, and slides down, and Jon is very confused.

And then Elias is lifting his skirt out of the way, and nosing into his cunt.

Jon sucks in a startled breath and starts to say something, torn between asking what he's doing like it isn't obvious and telling him to stop, but Elias starts drawing his tongue directly over his clit and he finds himself briefly unable to form words.

"Elias-" he manages after a moment, and breaks off again when Elias hums.

" _Stop it_ ," he manages again, and Elias moves to press his tongue into the slick of his cunt, and drag it up over his clit again. Then he starts making tight little circles against the tip, and Jon can't focus on what he was trying to say.

Static builds and breaks, and then he finally manages to bite out, "I don't need you to _relax_ me, I need you to let me off this table."

Elias shoots him an amused look from between his legs, "Oh, certainly I will when we're done here. But I don't imagine," he says pointedly, "that you really want me to stop _now_."

Jon would like to tell him that he very much _would_ like him to stop now, but Elias is suddenly sucking and Jon is struggling to choke back a broken moan.

He regains his breath as static builds again, but this time all he says is, "Jonah". He's shaking and his panting breaths are now coming with little broken off noises and short whines of pleasure, and he's trying not to twist against the stone. Not that he could move from it. The cool surface feels nice against his heated skin.

The fear that the static brings is returning in force, but it doesn't feel as it did, a foreign and overwhelming invasion of his mind, isn't even really distracting from the building pleasure that's climbing through him, and suddenly Jon is gasping as he comes. Elias doesn't stop until his body stills.

" _There_ you are. That's much better." Elias is looking at him with the most infuriating mixture of smugness and affection.

Elias moves back in front of him, bracing himself with one hand against the stone, tilting his chin with the other, presses their lips together. It's quite gentle, actually, but very insistent, and Jon finds himself opening his mouth, pressing back into him in a daze.

Jon's breath catches, eventually, he's not sure after how long, and he recoils- Elias lets him go easily this time, but stays where he is, inches away, and they stare at each other like that for several long seconds.

Jon has always liked Jonah's eyes, actually. From a distance they appear a rather straightforward slate grey, but when you see them closer the streaks of pale blue that run through like cracks of ice are visible, and the limbal ring stands out in stark contrast, almost black, against the lighter base color. He remembers worrying he'd been caught staring in his interview, which in hindsight he probably was.

"Your eyes are a perfect match." Jonah breaths out almost inaudibly.

"What?" Jon says, torn out of his own thoughts and caught off guard. "What are you talking about?"

Elias brings his hand up to brush along the orbit of his eye, just barely skirting the lid, pressing, just slightly, into the hollow of the cavity.

"Your eyes," he repeats, almost dreamily. Then, "The tourmaline." And Jon realizes he's talking about the stone crowning the room around them, staring out from everywhere with thousands of glowing eyes, refracting light from no visible source and maybe casting their own glow, like in the extramission theory of vision that so prevailed for thousands of years.

"They've always been such a vivid green, haven't they. It was the first thing I noticed about you."

And then he's moving again, removing Jon's skirt completely now (and folding it neatly, which Jon distantly thinks is hilarious), repositioning his legs as he does so. He continues methodically stripping, at first just Jon, but himself now too, and Jon asks what he thinks he's doing. No response. He asks again, but this time he Asks. Elias pauses to smile at him, and static shimmers through the air around them. "You'll see."

Jon tries to tamp down on the rising panic, a buzzing starting through his head again, and Elias tells him not to be so worried. To relax. His mouth hasn't moved. As Jon notices this, Elias shoots him an amused glance, and says, out loud, "Are you only just noticing that now?".

"What are you talking about? You haven't done it before now. What _is_ this?"

"You'll have to be more specific, I'm afraid."

"Just shut up and answer my question!"

" _Jon_."

And Elias pauses to rest his hands against his shoulders, thumbs brushing just against his throat. He can't tell whether it's meant as a threat or as reassurance. Maybe both. Probably both.

Jon stops his renewed struggling against the altar, for the moment, all the same.

"You already knew we were connected in this way," and Jon flinches as the static and screaming fades back in, but only very briefly, before, "And you knew about my ability to... Share information between minds, in one form or another, well before now."

"You haven't done that before," Jon says, mostly because he's disgruntled by the idea he wouldn't notice.

"I have."

"You _haven't_."

"Archivist."

" _When_?"

Elias sighs, not altogether out of annoyance, and brushes a hand to his cheek. "We'll have plenty of time for that later. Or have you forgotten we're in the middle of something?"

"We're not."

Elias laughs softly.

" _I'm_ not." And Jon shoots him a glare that's only slightly, he hopes, tinged with renewed panic.

"Well that's hardly very thoughtful of me, if that's how you feel. I'll have to rectify that." And he leans down to kiss him, biting down not quite hard enough to draw blood, snaking another hand down across his body. Jon yelps and tries to draw back again, but this time Elias presses him down further against the stone. He finally breaks the kiss and leans back to watch him, and Jon begins to feel relieved, for a moment, before inhaling a sharp breath as a hand is suddenly rubbing gently at his clit.

"Jonah. Stop it." He hisses out between his teeth.

Elias hums and presses down harder, drawing slick still on his cunt slowly across the hypersensitive spot.

Jon's body jerks and he gasps, his head tilting back and a tremor running through his legs, and he bites out, " _Elias_." Then, more quietly, "fuck," when it doesn't stop.

And then there is static climbing around them and Jon can't think, can only focus on the sound and sight and smell and feeling of the fear that composes the world around them tearing in again and beginning to rise. Just when he's starting to panic in earnest it recedes again, and Jon realizes with a start that the head of Elias's cock is resting against his entrance.

"Wait, fuck, stop, Elias-" Jon begins between shaky, shallow breaths. His head feels like it's on fire. His vision is clear.

Elias, to his surprise, leans forward so that their faces are almost touching again, and he flinches back at the sudden movement, but he only strokes a hand through his hair again, bringing it to rest against his face, smiling softly at him, and saying, "you're doing so well, Jon. I'm not going to hurt you. Relax. We'll go slow." And before Jon can respond, he's pushing into him.

Jon takes a shuddering gasp in and his head tilts back to knock against the cool stone. He thinks he makes a sound but he doesn't know what it is. His eyes flutter open.

It doesn't hurt, at least physically, though it is a somewhat overwhelming feeling regardless. He isn't sure whether Elias had something else to slick his way or if he just used what was already there. His limbs feel weak and shaky where they're pressed against the table.

"Do you feel more like we're in the middle of something now?" Elias half laughs, half sighs against his mouth, before moving to attack his throat.

He takes a strained, hitching breath and, on an inhale, tries to say, " _Elias_ ", but he doesn't think any sound comes out. Elias is gently running a hand down his body, and static is gently lapping at the edges of his mind and humming through the air around them.

Elias looks like he's about to start moving, for a moment, but then there's a foreign, awful screeching sound that resonates discordantly through the place, clashing violently, and he feels the beginning of a headache, before-

There's a door.

And then martin is standing there, and the door is gone.

Edifices of the spiral can only last so long in places like this. Jon hopes it was blind luck that allowed it to manifest in the first place, and tries not to think about it when he feels the answer ringing in the back of his mind.

Jonah smiles against his throat.

"Jon. It is kind of your pet to stop by, isn't it?"

Jon doesn't, can't answer. Blood is rushing in his head, and there are _so many things happening at once_ , why won't everything just _stop_? He's terrified for martin's safety, and of what's being done to him, and of martin seeing this, and of the rising feeling in the back of his mind that there's something about this he _likes_ , something _right_ , and-

His hearing returns from the muffled, underwater noise he hadn't registered, and martin is shouting at Elias to let him go, and he sounds more pissed off than he's ever heard him. Elias doesn't seem terribly bothered. Actually, he seems to be enjoying it quite a bit. He hasn't started moving in him yet, so there's that.

"Jon! Can you hear me? What the fuck else have you done to him? Let him go! You-"

"Martin," Elias interrupts the oncoming tide of furious threats and cursing smoothly, "have a seat, if you would please."

And he hears martin take in a sharp, shocked breath when he drops to his knees.

"You'll speak when we're interested in hearing you speak, I think. Until then, well, this isn't terribly different from how you usually feel toward our dear Archivist, is it? Enjoy the show." With that he turns back toward Jon, who's begun again to struggle in earnest despite the uncooperativeness of his limbs, and gives him a conspiratorial wink. "I imagine you'll be able to appreciate this too, hm?"

Jon drops back against the stone to gasp out, "What the fuck are you _talking about?_ "

Jon tries to turn toward martin but Elias holds his head in place, mouth inches from his, and says, "It's just that this is so much better, now. You get to have your boyfriend here, watching you, unable to take his eyes off you- do you know how many times he's wanted to do something very like this to you, Jon? To see you like this, panting and spread bare, flushed with pleasure? Can you feel his horror at seeing you like this now, finally? Isn't it exquisite?"

" _Elias-_ "

And suddenly Elias is moving inside him, and he can't breathe.

"That's not- I can't-"

And Elias shushes him, and tells him he's beautiful, and rolls his hips slowly in a way that makes him break off into incomprehensible strangled noises.

Jon is dimly aware that martin has started to cry and is making movements with his mouth that would be horrified begging if they had voice behind them and hasn't blinked once since he's been forced to his knees, but he doesn't think he had to look with his mundane set of eyes to know this.

"Elias, you need to stop, please-" except he realizes with a start that he didn't say it out loud, and Elias smiles proudly and kisses him. When he pulls back enough to meet his eyes, there is no other word to describe his expression but adoration.

"Do you know when I knew you'd be my archivist?" He asks, and Jon somehow manages to shake his head with his whole body shuddering, "when you walked in the building. Unfortunate to actually _confirm_ that Gertrude would need to be removed, but it was going that way anyway. And you were just so _perfect_."

Jon tries to protest, and Elias adjusts something about his trajectory, and his voice breaks on a moan instead.

"You really are a brilliant Archivist, and the perfect Archive. I don't believe there has ever been a time when curiosity hasn't burned through you."

The terror rolling off of martin and suffusing the room is palpable, and Elias is biting gently at where his neck meets his jaw and rolling his hips in a way that very deliberately starts targeting his clit, and the static is rising against his mind, and he feels like he might come again.

Just as the thought occurs to him he feels Elias smile, and has a moment of horror before he's suddenly fucking into him much more quickly. He manages a hitching breath that might be a sob and "Jonah, stop, please, no-", and then Jon is coming with a shout.

Elias is smiling at him with the same pride and adoration and fondness when the static that had inevitably risen back fades, and pushes a sweat slick strand of hair to the side. Jon closes his eyes for a moment, desperately trying to regain his breath, and he feels a soft breath on his eyelids before Elias is gently kissing them. He hasn't moved from inside him but has stopped relentlessly striking into him, and when he moves to capture his lips in a kiss Jon allows it without thinking.

Jonah starts pressing into him again, slowly, and Jon doesn't struggle or protest but makes short little cut off sounds of pleasure where he presses against his oversensitive skin, and he cannot tear his eyes away from Elias.

Jon realizes absently that he's pressing back into Elias, has tilted his head to kiss him, and Elias moans into his mouth.

When the kiss finally breaks, he is talking gaspingly of his plans hundreds of years in the making, how it slowly solidified and it's setbacks and variations. The Rite of the Watcher's Crown. The final ritual that brought the Age of the Beholding. He asks again how it felt, to read out the end of the world.

Jon says that it was beautiful before he can stop himself.

The static is reaching a crescendo greater than it had that first time when it completely wrecked him, but it feels strangely welcoming now, and he doesn't think he wants it to stop, he-

And then they're both gasping over the edge as the static resonates as a near tangible thing through the air. Neither of them have closed their eyes.

The near silent sound of sobbing comes into focus over their panting breaths.

"Well then. Did you enjoy yourself?" Elias asks, lazily peeling himself off of where he's draped over Jon to turn his attention to where Martin is still kneeling on the floor, unblinking and horrified.

There is a moment of silence, before, almost imperceptibly, "We _will_ stop you."

And Jonah _laughs_ , more openly than Jon has ever heard him.

He beckons Martin closer, which martin inevitably obliges, and has him kneel again by where Jon's head is, where he still lies limp and exhausted against the elegant stonework.

"You'll want to go ahead and say or do anything you need to now, I imagine."

Martin says "just stop hurting him, please", as Jon says "what are you talking about?" But he thinks he Knows. He tries not to.

When they don't do anything other than look at each other Elias sighs and mutters something good-humored about having to do everything himself. He tells Martin to kiss Jon, and neither of them are expecting that. Martin's eyes go glassy and Jon tries to ask what Elias is doing again against quickly rising panic. Elias tells Martin to move away from the altar and kneel again on the floor "so I have space to work."

As Elias steps closer, martin looks like he realizes what's going on. Jon wishes neither of them did, but is stuck to a table and very fucked and also still riding the high of having seen every living thing that exists in anguished terror and experiencing it alongside them, and so is not really in a position to do anything, other than to say, again, "Jonah. Stop. Please."

Mirroring this, "Please just stop hurting him. You don't need to, _please_."

Elias takes Martin's chin with a distance that wasn't present when he handled Jon, despite the superficial similarities, and says with a reassuring smile, "Now, really, martin. I would never hurt my Archivist- not unnecessarily and not _now_. I'll take good care of him. You'll see." He raises his other hand to rest against the side of his face, level with his eyes.

"Jonah, please. You don't need to do this. Just let him go. _Please_." And Elias turns when Jon's voice breaks on the last word.

"But you do so love this body, don't you? I think it's high time for a change."

Martin's face as he continues to stare unblinking is blank. His eyes are red.

Jonah turns back to regard him, and makes a noise of approval. "Ah, it's always so much better when they've been crying. Difficult to retain enough moisture in the transfer otherwise. Lovely."

And before Jon can try to say anything, think of _anything_ that could possibly stop this, Jonah is shoving his fingers into martin's eye socket. He's sure he makes some noise, but he doesn't know what. Jon is the one looking on in horror now, unable to blink. It's not unfamiliar to him. For his part, martin makes a noise like he's been shot and someone is twisting a fork around in the exit wound.

Jonah moves to the next, still holding an intact eye in his other hand, and martin makes a high, keening wine, before falling silent. Jon can see him shaking and taking shallow, quick breaths. Jon stops struggling.

Jonah sets them neatly next to each other on Martin's knee, because he hasn't told him to stop kneeling and so the powers that possess this place have forced him, through all this, to maintain his position.

And then Jonah reaches for his own eyes, and, with either hand, pries them from Elias bouchards skull. He presses them carefully into the two vacant, bloody orbits, and-

Elias bouchard collapses, and stops breathing.

Jonah Magnus takes a suddenly steady breath, and stands.

He appears to take stock of himself, and then he wipes at the blood smeared around his eyes with the back of his hand, then a finger, like he has an eyelash stuck there. Then he looks toward Jon.

Jon is lying, silent and shaking, collapsed on the altar. He has not looked away from this scene once. Regardless of how desperately he has wanted to. And his vision is clearer than it has ever been.

Jonah smiles with Martin Blackwood's face, and he does not look like Martin Blackwood when he does it. Jon is thankful for that, at least.

Jonah closes the few feet of distance between them and brushes a hand through Jon's hair gently, and all Jon can think to say is, "Jonah."

And then the Archivist smiles.

A tape recorder clicks off.

**Author's Note:**

> There is no major character death because martin doesn't die. It's implied he can still see everything that's happening. Additionally, while he is a major character in the actual podcast, he arguably isn't here.
> 
> Regarding the jonmartin in this fic- the parody fic included the indignant phase "Martin and Jon kiss, canonically" and so I really couldn't resist including something at that point. Honestly. But this fic isn't intended to be anti-jonmartin, just jonmartin badending tm, and Jon obviously cares about Martin in this fic- it's just not the focus, and I doubt that primarily jonmartin shippers would be very thrilled with this if that ship is the one they care about coming in. 
> 
> Unfortunately I now have more ideas and this turned out much better (and longer) than I expected, so I may have to deal with that later.
> 
> Please let me know if you think anything else needs to be tagged or was mistagged, and thank you so much for reading.


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